Intelligence, Destiny, and Perseverance
by kitkat411
Summary: Fran FanFic. Consonance. Hilarious.
1. Chapter 1

Intelligence, Destiny, and Perseverance

By: KitKat411

**Author's Notes: So. Wow, it feels so strange not to be typing "Hungering for Perfection" into my computer. In fact, I did begin to type that title in, before laughingly realizing that that story-that chapter in the melodrama that is my life-is over. "Completed" actually, if you want to use the FanFiction term for it. **

**So here I go again, typing out another story, throwing out another bit of my soul to the wolves-that is, ya'll lovely readers out there. Wow, this really is nerve-wracking. "Hungering for Perfection" was a lot simpler to publish, in a way. Yes, it was triggering for me to publish an "emo rant" (haha) about my eating disorder, but it was easier, I guess. Now, I have to follow up "Hungering" with this story, which I hope will be as "well-written" as "Hungering." Apparently, J.K. Rowling also had this problem with publishing ****Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets****. (Don't fret about all the **_**Potter**_** references; I'm not much of a fan in real life.)**

**But there are still similarities to "Hungering for Perfection" here. "IDP-my new nickname for this story since "Intelligence, Destiny, and Perseverance" takes more time to type than I want- will still have obnoxiously long Author's Notes. I like to write Author's Notes, people. They are my little rants from hell, to be honest. If you don't want to read them, however, just skip to the part that isn't bolded.**

**However, the second similarity is the characters. Yes, this story is about **_**Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney**_**-which I don't own, in case you didn't know-but it stars my buddy with the whip, Franziska von Karma. I don't know why she fascinates me…but here I am, writing about her again. Edgeworth is in here also, but he's not as much of an ass/good guy. (Depending on how far you are in "Hungering for Perfection," which I am shamelessly promoting.)**

**And if this first-very short-chapter doesn't make sense to you, look up "symbolism" in your high school English book.**

**So here you go…the debut of "Intelligence, Destiny, and Perseverance." Good luck in reading it, and wish me luck in writing it!**

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_Once upon a time, a beautiful princess was trapped in a tower. The tower was grand and magnificent, and it was known for its beauty throughout the kingdom. Everyone, from the lowliest servant to the lords and ladies, remarked about how elegant the tower was, and how whoever lived in it was surely very lucky and special._

_The princess, however, did not know that these people were speaking of her tower. Even if she did know, however, she would not have cared. For the princess was locked in the tower, and she was forever forbidden to leave. Instead, all the princess could do was study. She was expected to read, and to memorize, and to forever be perfect. She never had a chance to leave her tower, to be a normal young princess, or to be free._

_The tower was guarded by a large and menacing dragon. The dragon held the key to the tower within its fiery scales, but never used it to let the princess go. Instead, the dragon would often check up on the young princess to make sure she was always perfect. The dragon, if he caught the princess not studying, would yell at her, and flames-red and stinging-would burn the princess. The dragon would endlessly quiz the princess about her studies, and if the princess ever slipped up, the dragon would chase the princess and beat her savagely._

_The princess soon learned many things in her tower, but soon realized that there were three "rules" to be followed above all else._

_The tower would always be locked. She would never escape it, or the dragon that held her within it._

_Perfection was expected at all times. Anything less than perfection was considered failure._

_And the third thing that the princess quickly learned?_

_Miracles never happen._

_And fairytales don't exist. _


	2. Chapter 2

Intelligence, Destiny, and Perseverance

By: KitKat411

**Author's Note: Haha. Ya'll are right, I guess. My Author's Note is a lot longer than my story. (By the way, I'm finally learning the difference between "then" and "than.") Sorry about the really long Author's Notes. I probably shouldn't be apologizing, but I feel a bit guilty…but if you don't like 'em, don't read 'em. However, I will try to keep my ranting to a minimum. (No promises, though. Sometimes I just have to rant.)**

**Oh, and to Nadrom-sorry if I spelled that wrong: No, this story won't all be in italics. I was just reading over the "fluffy" stories in this section of FanFiction, and I though, "I want to write one of those too!!" (Insert whiny voice.) However, I am seemingly incapable of writing anything other than "emo rants," so the italics are my screwed up, cynical, twisted version of a fairy tale.**

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_Yes, the princess had realized that fairy tales didn't exist. However, that theory had one slight flaw:_

_She had a knight in shining armor._

"Franziska!" The word was loud and pompous, and even at three years old Franziska knew who was calling her. That voice sent shivers down her spine and made her want to hide under the bed in fright. Even at three, Franziska knew well enough to be afraid of her father. Accompanied by her nanny, Franziska feebly tottered down the stairs to the front entranceway, where her father was standing.

Franziska noticed her father first, of course. He was large where Franziska was tiny, tall and sturdy where Franziska was short and small. Even at three, however, Franziska already was beginning to show some of her father's characteristics. They both were somewhat arrogant, and both Franziska and her father were firm in their decisions. Even when choosing what to wear in the morning, Franziska was final in her choices and would not be changed. Her nannies were often afraid for this little girl, the little girl who would surely always be under her father's wing.

After her father, however, Franziska noticed the reason _why_ she had been called downstairs. There was a boy there, a boy of about nine years. He had almost grey h air and grey eyes, and those eyes were filled with a wide-eyed panic. Franziska, unaccustomed to seeing anyone remotely close to her age, peered at him curiously. He looked normal to her, not like he was under the "von Karma curse." He looked as if he belonged on a playground, not in the library like her. He looked afraid, wary even, but not _trapped_. So what was he doing here?

"Franziska, this is Miles Edgeworth." Her father's voice was clear-cut, without any emotional attachment. "His father…had a _tragic_ accident. His father and I were peers, so I invited Miles here to live with us until he is grown. He is my new apprentice, and so you will treat him with as much respect as you give me. Is this understood?"

It didn't take much to stun Franziska, even at three, but this news shocked her to the core. She was her father's daughter. She was supposed to be his apprentice. He was her mentor! He was her _father_. Didn't her father realize this? Didn't this Miles Edgeworth realize this? Miles was not supposed to disturb her and her father's relationship. Franziska was to be the von Karma heir, not Miles Edgeworth. "Miles von Karma"? If she weren't so stunned, the young von Karma would have snorted. This boy did not _deserve_ to be mentored by Manfred von Karma. Only she did. Only she was special enough.

But Franziska did not voice these protests aloud. "Yes, Father," was all she said instead.

"Good. Then you can show Mr. Edgeworth here to his room then, Franziska. He'll be staying in the guest room, down the hall from your own."

Franziska nodded, and spoke English to the young boy, who looked confused. After all, everyone around him was speaking in German.

"Miles?" Franziska spoke, and the boy nodded. "Follow me to your room." She led the boy to his room, and pointed inside. "Father has already explained this house to you, yes?"

Miles shook his head 'no.' Franziska sighed. "Fine. Then I will. This is the von Karma household, if you were not dim-witted enough to know that. Manfred von Karma is a perfect prosecutor, and I will be also. So will you, Edgeworth, if you know what's good for you." She showed him the large mahogany desk in the corner of the guest room, and pointed at the neat stack of books beside it. "These are law books. You are expected to study them, to learn them, and to memorize them. Father often comes in to quiz you, and you better be prepared for the tests. If you are not…well, you will see. If you have questions about these books, ask me.

Breakfast is served promptly at seven every morning, lunch is served at noon, and dinner is served at seven in the evening. If you are late, you do not eat. It's a simple system, and one which you will quickly become accustomed to." Finally, Franziska showed him a dictionary. "I am under the assumption, of course, that you do not speak a word of German?"

The boy nodded, and Franziska almost rolled her eyes. "This is an English-to-German dictionary. Learn it quickly. Neither Father nor I like conversing in English, although we are both fluent.

Any questions?"

The boy said nothing for a moment, and then opened his mouth to speak. "Ah, Franziska," he asked her, a little worried, "this is only my first day here and I'm still terribly confused."

Now Franziska snorted. "And? What do you want me to do about it, Miles Edgeworth? Pity you? No, you do not deserve my pity. Learn quickly, Miles."

Miles Edgeworth looked a bit stunned. "How…you are only three…how did you learn all of this…so quickly, so soon?"

"I am a von Karma! Nothing less than perfection is expected of me!" Franziska walked out of Miles's room and returned to her own, where she opened her latest law book and began to study avidly.

The next few weeks passed in an uncomfortable silence. Franziska was again locked in her room, but by her own choice, not her father's. She just couldn't bear to stand the boy-the fool-who her father was now training. If she looked in the bottom of her soul, Franziska would have realized she was jealous of Miles Edgeworth, but the bottom of her soul was a place entirely unfamiliar to Franziska. It wasn't a place she visited often.

One day, however, the invisible wall between Franziska and Miles crumbled a bit. While copying out a particularly difficult paragraph from a law book, Franziska heard a knock on her wooden door. Surprised, Franziska went to open the door. The only other person who entered her room was her father, and he never knocked. Franziska opened the door cautiously.

"Oh," she said, "it's only you. Do you have a question, Miles Edgeworth?"

"No," he said, "not really."  
"Oh," she said again, "well then, why are you here?"

"I was wondering if you would quiz me on evidence law." He asked her. "Manfred is prosecuting today, but I want to be ready when he returns."  
Ignoring the way Miles Edgeworth was casually tossing around her father's first name, Franziska opened her door a little wider and let Miles Edgeworth enter. He looked around her room and his eyes widened. "Wow," he said, "for a three year old, this room is impeccably tidy. Do you have a maid or something?"

"No, Miles Edgeworth, I do not have a maid. Naturally, it is clean, however. How am I supposed to be perfect in a room that isn't perfectly organized?" She sat down at her desk and pulled out a book on evidence law. "And I'm not three anymore. My birthday was last Thursday. I am four."

"Wow," Miles said, and Franziska soon realized that this was the boy's favorite word. "I'm sorry, Franziska. I didn't know about your birthday. Did you do anything special? Did you get any nice gifts?"

Franziska scoffed. "Of course not. Father is prosecuting, and my birthday nearly always goes unnoticed by everyone. It took even me a day or so to realize that my birthday had passed. Birthdays are not celebrated here, Miles Edgeworth. They are not victories, nor are they perfect. Birthdays simply "celebrate" the fact that we have endured another three hundred and sixty five days on Earth. I do not find that to be a great accomplishment."

Miles looked down. "Still, though…my father would always celebrate my birthday."

"Your father was a defense attorney. Naturally, he would be soft and celebrate such things like birthdays. _My _father, on the other hand, is a prosecutor. He sends criminals to prison. I find that to be a little more important than a birthday party and a cake, Miles Edgeworth. Now," she said, pulling out a law book, "you wanted me to quiz you on evidence law, correct?"

She drilled him in the laws of evidence for the next three hours, until her father returned home. Her father had earned yet another "guilty" verdict, and Manfred von Karma was pleased, although "pleased" may be a little much. "Self-satisfied" would be a better definition of his mood.

The dinner that followed was a pleasant one, with Manfred von Karma recollecting the events of the day's trial and his "children" listening attentively. After dinner, Miles Edgeworth and Franziska returned to their separate rooms, and did not speak for the rest of the night.

The next morning, however, when Franziska opened her door to go and eat breakfast, she found a small, wrapped box in front of her door. Picking it up, Franziska realized that there was a small card attached to the box. She picked up the card, opened it, and read: 

_Dear Franziska,_

_Happy birthday._

_Your brother, _

_Miles Edgeworth _

"Fool." Franziska muttered to herself, although, again, in the bottom of her soul, she was happy. She stuffed the box under her bed where her father wouldn't find it, tucked the card into the sleeve of her dress, and went down to breakfast.


	3. Chapter 3

Intelligence, Destiny, and Perseverance

By: KitKat411

**Author's Notes: Hey ya'll. Sorry for the non-updating-ness. I have a lot going on at school right now…history debates, physics reflection project, a "poet-tree" to grow…GAH. I hate freshman year, and apparently, it's only going to get worse next year.**

**But that isn't the only reason for the lack of updates. A guy I know-who shall remain anonymous- told me about something called "Death Note." I, not having the slightest idea what he was talking about, googled it, found out it was an anime, and began watching it.**

**That was on a Wednesday. Today is Saturday, May 05, 2007,-Cinco de Mayo!- and I'm ALL CAUGHT UP WITH "DEATH NOTE." If you don't know what "Death Note" is, DON'T GOOGLE IT. LIKE FACEBOOK AND FANFICTION, "DEATH NOTE" IS VERY ADDICTIVE. So…that's the other-more truthful-reason behind the non-updates. I have officially become a "Death Note" addict. **

**But it's very hard not to become one, you see. There's a guy named L, yes, just "L," and he's so **_**pretty**_**. Aww! I want to give him a hug. Here's a picture: If this doesn't work, just google "Death Note: L" and it'll come up.**

**But now I have-somewhat-slowed down the addiction. So here ya'll go, the third chapter!**

**Oh, and that "slowing down" of the addiction is crap. L is quickly growing to be my "Number One Emo Lover Who Does Not Actually Exist." He's almost-GASP!-surpassed Edgey for this title.**

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_However, there was one flaw in the princess's impeccable logic:_

_She had a knight in shining armor._

_And as the years went by, the princess and the knight grew even closer together. United in their hatred-and slight respect-of the dragon and their longing for freedom, the beautiful princess and the-_very manly_-knight spent many happy nights together. They would sit in the tower's hidden room, talking and trying to laugh at their pathetic living conditions._

_But the princess-relieved as she was at having a knight in shining armor-was still slightly disappointment. Her knight wasn't much of a knight, to be honest. He didn't come into her life and sweep her off her feet. He didn't protect her from the wrath of the dragon. He didn't even try to __slay__ the dragon. _

_But most of all?_

_The knight never fell madly in love with her._

_And they would never live happily ever after. _

"Miles. You got this wrong again. How are you ever supposed to per the perfect prosecutor if you can not even seem to remember the Miranda rights?"

Miles Edgeworth looked up and stared at the seven-year-old Franziska, who was glaring at him severely, her slightly pudgy hands placed on her hips. He smiled at her glaring look. "Well, Franziska," he said, and laughed slightly, "I guess I will never be as perfect as you. Now that we have made this stunning realization, would you like to stop this pointless exercise?"

Franziska's eyes narrowed. "And do what?"

Miles looked slightly amused. "Well, why don't we have a mock trial? I can practice my Miranda rights."

Franziska gave a short laugh. "Fine, Miles Edgeworth. But be warned: I will prosecute you _into the ground_. Your age is no match for my perfection."

Miles's amused expression grew slightly. It wasn't often that Franziska admitted she was seven years younger than him. Most of the time Franziska sounded his age-fourteen-and sometimes, she sounded even older than Miles. "Oh no you won't, Franziska. We'll have a trial, yes, but you shall not prosecute."

Franziska stared at him blankly. "Excuse me, Miles. I believe my ears weren't working. I thought you said that I couldn't prosecute."

Miles nodded. "You are going to learn how the "other half" lives, Franziska. You can defend."

"NO! I won't!" Franziska didn't know if she really did not want to defend or she just didn't want to give into Miles's demands. Anyway, she was losing her temper over this, something she did exceptionally rarely.

Miles looked at her blankly. "Yes, Franziska. Yes, you will be a defense attorney. Prepare your case."

Franziska grumbled a little more, but eventually gave in. _I will beat him._ She thought to herself. _I will beat him, and be perfect defense attorney. Then he will eat his words, the foolish fool._

And so they began the "trial." They decided that the defendant's name was Ryuuzaki-**Yes, my obsession for "Death Note" is apparent**- and that he was accused of killing his dog, Pesu.

At the sound of the victim's name, Franziska sulked. She wanted Ryuuzaki to be a mass murderer _at least_, but Miles reminded her that getting a "not guilty" verdict for a dog killing was much easier than a "not guilty" verdict for a killing spree. "After all," Miles chided her, "defending a mass murderer is nearly impossible. Work your way up to defending the mass murderers, Franziska. For now, defend poor Ryuuzaki. He didn't kill Pesu, did he?"

Franziska scowled. "Fine. But why Pesu can not be a six-year-old child is still beyond me."

"Your Honor," Miles said, speaking to the imaginary judge and interrupting Franziska's complaints, "the prosecution is ready to begin."

"Your Honor, the dense is ready also. As always."

"The prosecution with prove the guilt of Mr. Ryuuzaki in the murder of Pesu. The dog was brutally beaten with his dog bowl, and death was slow and painful."

"OBJECTION!" Franziska yelled. "Your Honor, in the autopsy report, Pesu was killed by poison."

"OBJECTION! Franziska, you just made that up! Your Honor, the autopsy report shows a death by beating."

"OBJECTION! Your Honor, the prosecution lacks sufficient evidence to back up their claim! No such autopsy report has been submitted into the Court Record!"

Miles's face clouded over in anger. "You expect me to submit evidence?"

Franziska raised an eyebrow challengingly. "Of course, little brother. Why, are you afraid of losing?"

Miles shook his head, smirking. "No, not afraid of losing." He shrugged. "To be honest, I was thinking only of your feelings."

"You were being honest? 'To be honest', Miles?" Franziska laughed. "Miles, you have never been honest in your life."

"Fine, then." Miles said. "Your Honor, the autopsy report. As you can plainly see, the bruises are evident. Also, the murder weapon: The dog bowl. It was used to beat Pesu, and it is covered with Mr. Ryuuzaki's fingerprints." He looked at Franziska, and his smirk grew tenfold. "Does the defense have a rebuttal, or can we put an end to this pointless show?"  
And so they were off. Miles came up with more and more evidence, and Franziska argued them back. Miles showed up with witnesses to badger, and Franziska cross-examined the cardboard cut-outs. Thee arguments quickly grew more harried, the objections grew louder, and the tension grew so high that Franziska finally ripped apart he cardboard cut-out because it wouldn't give her a sufficient response.

The judge finally began to give out the imaginary ruling when the trial was interrupted by a loud…

"OBJECTION!"

Manfred von Karma stormed into the room. He swept his large eyes across the pieces of cardboard, desks with dents from hands slamming on them, and the sweaty, disheveled faces of his "children."

"What. Is. This." The three words, spoken slowly and deliberately, carried more power and fear than the objection. Franziska and Miles looked at each other, than almost at once at the floor, their faces burning with shame.

"Manfred, we were acting out a trial." Miles's words were soft and apologetic.

"But what is with this _mess_?"" Manfred von Karma seemed to be addressing the room at large instead of his teenaged son. "A perfect prosecutor does not need to scream and shout. You are not _phoenixes_, children. You do not need to have your arguments die and return to life, grasping at straws.

Miles finally looked up. "Manfred, I tried. However, the defense came up with several good points. Franziska, your very own daughter, made many fine arguments."

"My daughter…Franziska…you were a defense attorney? My perfect…FRANZISKA?!?!?"

Franziska's stomach dropped, an intense feeling of dread spreading throughout her body. He father hardly ever was flustered, but obviously the realization that his heir was a defense attorney-and _liking_ it-was enough to drive the perfect prosecutor over the edge.

Franziska gulped quietly. She had a horrible feeling of what was sure to come next.

"Miles, please leave the room and return to your own now. Franziska and I need to have a little talk."

"Yes Manfred." And as Miles left, the seven-year-old watched her champion, her protector, her little brother leave. He hadn't even put up a fight, or tried to speak on her behalf. Instead, he had just left her. He had left her behind to deal with Manfred von Karma, with the monster, all on her own.

And as Manfred von Karma slowly approached her, Franziska closed her eyes, willing for this part- the anger, the lecture, and the inevitable striking- to be over. _Miles…_Franziska whispered in fear. _Miles…why didn't you help me? You know how he hated defense attorneys, Miles! You _knew_ what he would do to me, Miles. You know how angry he gets, and how his anger needs to be taken out on something…or someone. Why did you tell him that I was the defense? Why, Miles, why? Why didn't you save me, Miles? Why didn't you sweep me off my feet and carry me to safety?_

Later that evening, Franziska again applied the antiseptic and Band-Aids to her arms. But thinking about the words shouted at her…the words about disappointing her father, ruining her reputation, and the betrayal of the family name…those words could not be covered by a Band-Aid. Some wounds just couldn't be healed.

All of the sudden Franziska's door opened, and Miles walked in. _Speaking of betrayals…_

"What do you want now?" She asked him, her voice filled with venom and malice.

"I wanted to see if you were all right." The words seemed sincere, but they weren't the words Franziska wanted to hear.

"Miles, just get out." She told him, her voice cold and harsh. "You knew that telling Father about our game would get him angry. You knew that telling Father that I was a defense attorney would get him angry, angrier than ever before. We von Karmas are not defense attorneys, Miles! You should have known that! It's a show of disloyalty to even think of being anything but a perfect prosecutor! _You should have known that, Miles!_

And then you walked away, giving up without a fight. You didn't even think of the repercussions of your actions, Miles. You didn't think that Father would take his anger, frustration, and disappointment out on me. All you wanted to do was save your own life.

So no, Miles, I'm not all right. I'm hurt by my father's words and slaps and disgusted by my brother's actions.

Just get out, Miles. Just get out."

And so Miles did get out. He left the room and closed the door softly behind him.

And after that, a heartbroken Franziska cried herself to sleep.


End file.
